C17 Those Stupid Things!

A dowry of two hundred thousand? Might as well have robbed her!

"Get real. We've already signed the marriage contract, and I never brought up the dowry," Evelyn retorted, standing up in a huff.

She could never have imagined that one day she'd be at odds with her family over a dowry.

"Evelyn, seems like you've really spread your wings, trying to give me an early grave, aren't you?" Willard slammed down his vegetables and rose to his feet.

They stood toe to toe, eyes blazing with animosity as if they were sworn enemies.

"You were the first to act without kindness, so don't expect it in return," Evelyn choked back tears, refusing to let them fall.

In this household, she had always forbidden herself from appearing vulnerable.

"I'm doing this for your own good," Willard bellowed, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

For her own good? What a laughable excuse!

His eagerness to marry her off was solely for Lucille's benefit. Willard had always reserved the best for Lucille.

And her? She was left with the scraps.

"Deluding yourself," Evelyn said with a self-deprecating smirk, her smile tinged with desolation.

Even now, Willard persisted with his 'for your own good' mantra.

"Evelyn, don't think I'm oblivious to your school antics. I've kept quiet out of respect for you."

What had she done? Nothing!

"Heh," Evelyn scoffed, lifting her head proudly, her smile marred by invisible wounds.

Did her father, who professed to act in her best interest, truly understand her at all?

Seeing no sign of remorse from her, Willard's anger intensified.

In his fury, he lashed out with even more cutting remarks, "Evelyn, your reckless behavior at school, the pregnancy, the abortion—I've gone to great lengths to find you a suitable match, all to secure a decent future for you..."

"Enough!" Evelyn cut him off, unable to bear his words any longer.

Could these really be the words of a father?

"Why? Can't face the truth? Still have the audacity to question my kindness?" Willard advanced, berating Evelyn with every word.

In his heart, there probably never was a place for a daughter like her.

Evelyn gazed at her father, her smile crumbling into tears.

She parted her lips, her voice barely a whisper, "Yes, you're right."

Her stoic response seemed to catch Willard off guard, rendering him speechless for a moment.

Circling the sofa, Evelyn made her way toward the kitchen.

At the doorway, she greeted her stepmother with a wry smile, "Happy now?"

The stepmother remained silent, yet her pleased mood was palpable.

Evelyn turned back to her father, still seated by the sofa.

"Dad, I've never been one to compete or demand, but when it comes to marriage, you can't dictate my choices. I am already Mrs. Andrews. Your approval is neither here nor there to me."

Willard averted his gaze, muttering indifferently, "Do as you wish."

"I'm leaving." With a bitter twist of her lips, Evelyn didn't linger, turning on her heel to depart.

Her heart, this time, felt irreparably numb.

...

Beyond the confines of the residential area, Evelyn's steps were erratic, her mind in disarray.

The sky loomed heavy, threatening an imminent downpour.

She stood curbside, attempting to hail a cab during the challenging morning rush.

Soon, a chill wind ushered in a drizzle that quickly turned to a downpour.

Clad in only a thin blouse, the fabric clung to her, chilling her to the bone.

The relentless rain lashed at her, each drop a sharp sting against her skin.

Just when all seemed bleak, a white sedan pulled up before her...